


Safety Deposit Human

by ReadySpaghetti4Regretti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Minor Violence, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadySpaghetti4Regretti/pseuds/ReadySpaghetti4Regretti
Summary: A human soul is essentially destroyed when a person is distorted into a demon. However, a soul is immortal and there exists an essence in some crevice of the universe. She was a contingency plan—a means for him to survive beyond salting and burning his human bones. As long as no one else finds out about his walking storage box, Crowley truly is invulnerable. At least until he decides on a replacement. Whichever comes first. Crowley x OC





	1. Silly Rabbit, Demon Deals are for IDJITS

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to apologize ahead of time for this... steaming garbage... that slithered into my head at 3 in the morning. Please enjoy or at least be amused... or drink a lot of alcohol until one of those things becomes possible! Thanks for reading! (posted long ago on ff, but i'm keeping my initial sentiments on this)

It was the conclusion of a night shift, which was common for new graduates who would take any job handed out to them, no matter how unreasonable or undesired. There were no cars on the road at the ungodly hour of 4 a.m. save for a few others who might have had the same plight as her. Soft music filled the car, just muted enough to not overwhelm the senses.

A sudden, harsh shatter of thick glass and the invasion of car exhaust into her nostrils ripped her hands away from the wheel. The spider-web pattern appeared instantly on the window—before she felt the vehicle tilt and begin to roll as the airbags smothered her from unknown angles. She must have screamed or perhaps she resigned to fearful silence. Nysza wasn't fully able to describe the events that transpired. The noise was louder with each simultaneous impact that followed. So much for "no other cars on the road".

Her arm was definitely broken, along with the rest of her limbs as she sat restrained by her own seatbelt. It had instantly locked her into position. Ignoring the pain in her right arm, she reached for the hammer that her parents insisted be kept in the glove box of her car. Emotional trauma aside, her body acted first, grasping the wooden handle only to feel a blinding pain rip across her chest. She cried out that time and glanced down, panting heavily as she found a jagged metal shard lodged into her chest. So that's what had shattered her collarbone. Blinking back the tears from the leaking variety of smells, the brunette used the back end to slice through her safety belt that was essentially doing the opposite of keeping her safe.

Gritting her teeth, she deliberately doubled over, pulling her body off the metal shard. The adrenaline must have allowed her some reprieve from the bloody nose, busted lip, fractures, and nonfunctioning limbs. With one last display of strength, she threw the hammer against the window and crawled out to the grassy floor just outside. The car must have tumbled down a cliff-side.

"Well, that took you long enough." The indifference was glaring as Nysza turned to her side to see who the hell was there. He certainly wasn't a paramedic. "Remember me, sweetheart?" Coughing ineffectively, the girl tried to press her hand to her abdomen, seeing the light blue of her scrubs staining a deep red.

"Did …you… hit me?" It was a fair question, despite seeing him entirely unscathed in a dark coat and his hands inside of the pockets.

"Oh heavens, no." His voice was heavily accented and familiar in a most discomforting way. "He's dead. But you're not." There was a long pause. "You're welcome." A smug annoyance stood behind the words, and Nysza was fully inclined to believe that she had died. "Now… for you to hold up your end of the deal." Deal. That word resounded in her head even as the intracranial pressure increased so intensely that her vision blurred. There was a distinct tactile sensation of a hand touching her before the scene faded to black.

When her eyes opened again, she was standing in a house of indiscernible location. "I'm dead." She spoke cautiously, wiggling her fingers and glancing down at her uniform, pristine as the day she ironed it. Bouncing continuously up and down to test her legs, the girl looked about "I'm… in hell." She ventured.

An amused chuckle from behind her prompted her to turn with a final bounce. "Not yet. Try to keep up, Rabbit." He watched her visibly inflate, point at him admonishingly, and furrow her brow. At least her bouncing had ceased.

"Okay, you're going to want to refrain from calling me "Rabbit"." Maybe he should have left some of the injuries intact for time sensitive purposes.

"Sure kitten." The man's steps were slow, calculated, as if he were pacing "I must say, I am a little offended you've forgotten me. I've been known to leave quite an impression." Setting her jaw, the young woman crossed her arms and gave him a once-over. Not too overly tall, dark eyes that matched his neat suit, and a roughness to his voice that pulled it all together.

"…Crowley… Crossroads demon" Realization bloomed like a multi-layered rose on her expression, shifting to a couple different phases that began with absolute mortification, to what appeared to be denial, then disgust. It was comical and concerning to watch at the same time.

"Yes, bingo…what—what are you doing?" Raising his arm indolently to indicate to her multitude of changing expressions, a look of puzzlement touched his own. She looked like a puppy that had been fed a hot chili pepper to the point where he was unsure if it was her genuine reaction or the "side effect" of the contract initiation.

So it hadn't been a dream. The "demon" who had appeared to her months ago, revealing to her that she would die, and then offering a get-out-of-jail free card. Well… at a price, so that negated the whole " _free_ " thing. Nyzsa's shoulders lifted as her face scrunched, turning it from side to side. Her face transitioned from appalled, to sheer compunction at what was unfolding before her. Slowly, her hands followed suit, fingers flexed in front of her as if holding a bowl of soup. Understandably, their first encounter had not been entirely chaste and the mindless indulgence was partially—no— _completely_ due to thinking it was a dream. The most concerning aspect was that she had accepted the deal, and he was here to collect.

"Stop. Stop that." Eyes flickering from her face to her hands, the demon was certainly becoming more and more uncomfortable with her antics.

"We d—" And then it worsened for a moment before subsiding. "Um." Collecting her bearings, Nyzsa placed her hands back down at her sides in reluctant acceptance… at least for now. "So, what exactly do I need to do." To hold up her end of the deal. No doubt it would be grueling. Demons were not known for their… "generosity". "Fair warning. I don't know how to kill anything." Might as well toss that out there for insurance. Her existence now ran on borrowed time, pushed shakily across thin ice. With a snap of his fingers, he could shatter the ice and pick any other unwitting vessel on the earth.

"Easy!" A grin, accompanied by a raise of his eyebrows, built up another bout of unease in her stomach. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Crowley paused, "Well. Lay low, and continue with your existence. That's not too hard, right?" The woman eyed him, taking an audacious step towards him.

"That can't be it. You saved my life." Which she would entirely process later, but focusing on the task at hand, she needed to find out.

"To put it simply…" Honestly, he did not need to hand out an explanation, but he also did not need her running to the nearest hunter screaming about demons. Pointing to himself, he spoke slowly, purposefully "I'm _inside_ you." Concluding by indicating towards her, he awaited a response.

"…. try again please." The whole situation perturbed her and if she couldn't get at least a small grasp on it… she'd lose her mind.

"You were a perfect candidate for me to put something in." The sustained blank return stare was a wonderful response. "Not what you're thinking. As much as you'd like it to be." He inhaled, a twinge of exasperation starting to show. "We'll call it my soul." Not true, demons didn't have souls, but whatever it was-an essence-needed to be hidden well until he could find a better location for it. If it were destroyed, it would take him with it, aside from salting and burning his human bones buried securely far from any prying eyes.

A person's soul was typically destroyed when that person becomes a demon. Going up against the statement of "souls are immortal", a fragment remains as leverage.

"Don't you need it?" He laughed this time.

"No." Great, so she was essentially a walking safety deposit box.

"Why me?"

"Million-dollar question." It was inevitable, to be sure. Crowley shrugged, "You're… not important." The smirk remained curved on his face, "Not a hunter, angel, demon, mogul, president—strictly average, don't-know-when-to-shut-up, hardworking citizen with no network of troubling connections." An unnecessary emphasis was placed on "average" "And! You're technically supposed to be dead. It's an ideal hiding spot, love." Nysza was content with not letting it show how much that got to her. Part of her was not willing to give the satisfaction for anything, specifically to him. The demon allowed it to sink in before adding one final piece, "Oh, one more thing." Lifting his hand and snapping his fingers summoned a peculiar disturbance in the air, "Say hello to your new roommate."

"I don't…" A bestial growl and breath of heated air against her side froze her to the spot. "What…."

"Hellhound. Don't pet him. He bites." Nysza could have sworn a wink accompanied his words, but she was more focused on the invisible creature prowling around her with no intention to listen to a word she said. "Good. We done here?" The whole ordeal had taken far longer than he ever wanted. Frankly he didn't realize she'd be so chatty and slow to react.

"Uh… wait!" A long sigh expressed how eager he was to get on with the other plans he had set in motion after handing off the Colt to the Winchesters. His lips were pressed into a thin line, bidding her to speak. "Are you going to visit?" The unresponsiveness as well as Crowley squinting his eyes prompted her to continue, "I figure its like room-mates—soul-mates. Because we're sharing a soul—no? Okay." Visitation? That's what she was choosing to ask. "Well, thank you. And you are right…" She nodded. "I don't actually know when to shut up."

Of all the things he said.

 


	2. Hellhound & Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't write a supernatural fic without the Winchester boyos. Here it is!

 

* * *

There was no instruction manual for harboring two souls or… whatever it was that was occupying space inside of her earthly being. However, over the course of a year or two, Nysza learned that her life truly did progress normally. She headed into work for her shifts, entertained her friends, and hosted her parents whenever they decided to visit once or twice a month. Unfortunately, whenever she nearly forgot of her situation, a grim reminder reared its ugly, deformed head in an often messy occurrence.

Just two weeks ago, a common thief had broken her kitchen window, managing to only make it past the sink before they were torn apart and splattered all over the furniture. The first time had left her in a petrified state, especially after cleaning for five hours to rid her small home of the blood. Crowley had taken care of the body with efficiency… at least that's what he'd said.

She'd put up a beware of dog sign as a precautionary understatement of the century. Also, she had tried feeding it, completely uncertain what its dietary requirements were. All items had failed except for some chunks of raw meat that she thought might work on a bloodthirsty entity such as a hellhound.

Pulling a mitten over her hand, the brunette grasped the oven handle to check on the cookies inside. She had nothing for the potluck and the girl was rather prideful about her cooking. Six individual Ziploc bags were packed before rewarding herself with a cool glass of water. The liquid slid down her throat, replenishing every droplet of energy expended in the last few hours.

A loud crash, followed by inhuman snarling caused her heart to drop. More than once had she tried to stop it, but unless she answered the door herself and kindly greeted the guest in front of the hellhound, it simply determined the scent as hostile, free game. The wounds were also always too severe to treat if she were ever successful. Most mauling tended to occur when she was absent. It was a dramatic stretch from the upbeat cat that brought home dead rodent catches as a gift for their beloved owner. Small, dead animals littered across her bed were a notch better than gratuitously splayed human limbs … Right?

Mild concern pinched her brow at hearing a distinct gun shot, followed by a snarling whimper. Nysza gasped, nearly dropping her water glass as two men ran into the kitchen, instantly placing a thick line of salt along the door. One ran for the windows to do the same, while the other promptly splashed liquid from a vial on her.

"Wh—" Shocked and fairly offended, the woman retaliated by jerking her arm forward, sending whatever remaining liquid in her cup onto the startled male.

"Whoah, hold up…" Wiping the water from his face as well as parts of his flannel, and breaking away from his impressively practiced run, the stranger took a step back to scrutinize her. "You're not a demon." His voice was deep, skeptically so, but louder to combat the frenzied growling and barking from beyond the threshold. "The hell are you doing here?" Scowling past the confusion, the man turned to his companion, then back to her.

"I live here." Wiping her hands on her apron, Nysza glanced from one stranger to the other, finding that neither of them knew how to respond instantly. They were hunters. All that remained was whether they regarded her an enemy.

"So, uh, what are you, an informant? Contact?" The taller of the two hazarded, slowly turning his head with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Her mouth opened, only to find another voice respond.

"An intimate investment—consensual, of course." Both hunters whirled around with an urgency and readiness that suggested they recognized the voice too. "Hello boys." Crowley nearly purred, letting the greeting rumble out at a leisurely pace. Slowly angling his head to acknowledge her, "Rabbit." The two men had drawn their weapons—a strange silvery dagger far more intricate than a regular blade.

"You guys are the Winchesters aren't you?" She chimed. Nysza could count on two hands how many times Crowley had checked in on her. And eighty percent of the time, rants about the two brothers were imminent. "Your nicknames now make sense." Since she was able to finally put faces to the names.

"Thank you." It was clear he took pride on that platform. Instinctively, the dark-haired girl picked up a cookie bag and dropped it in the demon's hands as he sauntered by. "Love these." She also learned that he enjoyed making people uncomfortable, and ironically indulging in human pleasures that did nothing for him. Food and water were not a necessity, and yet here he was stockpiling cookies.

"Let her go, asshole." The one she assumed to be Dean scowled, clenching his jaw and readying his weapon. Crowley clicked his tongue in irritation.

"That's  _King_  Asshole to you." His thick accent lilted, adding another block to his pride. Nysza glanced off to the side, remembering him relaying to her the story of Lucifer's fall and his strategic rise to power. She had kept quite clear of that, much to the demon's intent and her own convenience. It was impressive to be sure, but involving herself in any supernatural chaos was not on the agenda, despite her current association.

"I'm fine. Really. It's okay." By all means, the young woman was positive that her reactions to things should have been more horrified or hysterical, but it-couldn't-get-any-worse was a constant, detrimental, mindset she had. She offered a smile, "You're both welcome to fresh cookies." Sam didn't falter, wrinkling his nose at the prospect. However, she caught the older brother flicker his gaze towards the table with the bags, packed with sweets. Walking over, Nysza slid one across the table for easier access. The business transaction was completed as Dean slipped the bag into his back pocket.

Without skipping a beat, the two charged forward, only to be thrown back with a simple hand gesture. The brunette exhaled sharply. "Don't break my things!" A noise within her throat hummed in displeasure. She honestly could not care for their conflict, given that she had no hand in it to begin with.

"You'll live." One of the brothers had missed a window, leaving one region unguarded by their salt line.

"Famous last words…" Her eyes widened as he lifted his hand, thumb and middle finger pressed together. The teleportation took place before she could properly even protest.

oOo

More than once had she been accused of being talkative by the demon constantly transferring her about as a means of keeping her hidden. However, most of the time, it was him who prattled on nonstop whenever they were in each other's company.

Sporting blue pajamas and a very soft blanket over her shoulders, Nysza sat cross-legged on her couch, watching the demon. He was leaning back in the recliner just slightly to the left of her vision, a glass of craig scotch being gingerly cradled in his hand. It was likely that the drink did not give him any sort of buzz either. Perhaps he just liked the taste.

"Uh. Continue." He had resigned to staring blankly ahead of him for a moment.

"Right. Self-righteous Cas—follows the Winchesters around like a lovesick angel puppy." She had to admit, the more she heard about Castiel, the more endeared she had become by the Angel. "He hasn't come to terms with how alike we are, nor the fact that it was me he ultimately turned to for assistance. We're working together; it doesn't get much better than that. Compadre." There was a malicious gleam in his eye. Occasionally she wondered what he was capable of. The demon was doing a particularly stellar job of keeping her separated from his affairs, which was why she indulged these wildly fantastical exchanges. Perhaps because it had not affected her life too negatively. "I'd love to choke him with his own bloody halo."

"You're working together." The glass was pressed to his lips momentarily before he drank. Apparently, she had missed the apocalypse too… among other things.

"Oh yeah. Set me ablaze and everything, literally. It was very dramatic. Standing ovation worthy really." Crowley watched an odd smile curve the girl's features before a laugh knelled. Dimples accented as she kept a smile, Nysza rolled her eyes. Either she was tickled by the joke or fancied the idea of him on fire.

"A sizzling performance." She finally added, observing him as he crossed one leg over the other and absentmindedly scratched his clean-shaven chin. "So how are things… with running," Every now and then the conversation topic would hit her and apprehension would resurface, "Hell."

"Hellish." All in all, the demon seemed genuinely exasperated by it. "D'you have any idea what shortsighted, stupid prats demons are?" The rest of the drink was finished off within that one rhetorical question. "Good for making examples out of though, the little jackasses."

"Oh, so you're not being fed grapes on plush cushions, with silk sheets swathing your naked body." Leaning forward, Nysza picked up the neck of a half full bottle, tipping it to refill his glass just a quarter of the way. He was smirking at her, aware that she was more than comfortable with combating his comments without fear of repercussions. Given, if she died, so did he.

"I didn't say I wasn't." Raising his eyebrows, he angled his head slightly. "But I'll make a note of the silk." There was a pause before he stood up. "And another thing. Pack your bags. We're going on an extended …. Field trip."

"What? Now?" With the Winchesters growing ever suspicious of the girl's existence and Eve roaming around freshly freed from Purgatory, there were measures he had to take. She was so curious about what he did? Well, she was going to find out firsthand.

"Yes." He answered simply, gesturing for her to hurry it along.

"Is it because I'm your Horcrux?" Anything he did for her benefit was, in all actuality, for his survival. He blinked, taken aback by that phrasing.

"Quite forward tonight, aren't we? I wouldn't call you my  _whore_ , per se…"

"Oh n-no I meant the book where he splits his—nevermind." After reasoning over a heap of theories about her situation, the best synoptic coping mechanism she could relate to was one she had read in a fictional novel. Close enough.

"Splits his...what—legs?" What combination of words could have completed that sentence? "Your smutty literature aside, we have things to do, chop-chop." It was amazing that he gave an early indication to pack without snapping his fingers again like a Broadway musical showdown.

"Are you not telling me where we're going?" Crowley regarded the girl as she got up from her seat, shedding the blanket that had been around her shoulders.

"A lovely and cozy venue. Temporary. But you'll love it." By the tone shift, Nysza had a feeling that she definitely would not.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you ! (posted this on ff before but some people like the format of ao3! so here it be)

**Author's Note:**

> stares directly into the camera like the office.


End file.
